


It Goes Both Ways

by ubicaritas (Janet)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 15:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18391379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janet/pseuds/ubicaritas
Summary: Feelings run deep after a near miss.A response to Obbo 342 on Tea & Swissroll.





	It Goes Both Ways

****

 

**It Goes Both Ways**

He entered the park at a run, passing through the gates and past the friendly welcoming sign informing visitors of the opening hours and the rules of etiquette and behaviour that guests were expected to follow.

Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be getting a friendly welcome.  And those rules of etiquette and behaviour might be sorely challenged once he found who he was looking for.

_Once he found Doyle…_

He slowed to a walk, then paused at a crossroads in the footpaths that meandered through the park.  He hissed in pain as his arm protested the jarring motion, then looked around in frustration, trying to imagine which direction his erstwhile partner might have taken. 

To the left the trail led down towards the park’s duck pond; a pair of young mothers with their energetic youngsters were standing at the water’s edge, gleefully throwing chunks of bread at a group of swirling, quacking ducks. 

Not that way, then. 

And to the right was a play area where more children were laughing and shouting as they swung and slid and ran about, under the watchful eyes of their nannies. 

Again, this didn’t seem likely.

That meant straight ahead, where the wide main trail cut through the centre of the park.  It widened out from the crossroads, rising gradually up to a plateau, lined by a row of mature trees standing sentinel, their canopies spreading dappled light across the ground.  A few scattered leaves from the early-autumn shedding dotted the grass and path alike.

Wooden benches lined the route with their backs turned to the trunks, and it was on one of these, in the distance at the end of the row, that Bodie spotted a solitary figure, hunched and motionless on the wooden slats.

_Doyle._

Bodie started up that gentle slope, each step feeling more like a mountain climb as he approached the bench where his partner sat.  He stopped short, well outside touching distance, but still near enough for him to see the slow rise and fall of Doyle’s shoulders as he breathed, the mouth compressed with tension, the tiny pulse which throbbed, visible in the open neck of his shirt…

“Doyle.”  Bodie cleared his suddenly congested throat.  “Ray…”

Silence greeted him, broken only by the skittering of more leaves, as the breeze brought a sudden chill to the air.  Bodie shivered, abruptly and keenly aware that he was without his jacket; he’d left it behind on a chair in the waiting room when he’d run after his partner.  His partner, who’d maintained a stony silence from the moment Cowley had dismissed them from the scene of the shootout – _“Och, off you go to hospital and get that arm patched up, and I’ll see both of you tomorrow morning, early!”_ – right up until the triage nurse had asked about the bullet wound… and then scarpered with a single, murderous glance at him when he’d tossed off some flippant comment about not moving out of the way fast enough.

“Ray,” he said again, this time moving cautiously to sit down on the bench beside his partner.  “Look, I’m … I’m sorry, all right?”  There was still no reaction, so he carried on.  “But I … there was…”

“You bastard!”  Doyle looked at him at last, green eyes aflame with anger, and something more, something… deeper.  “You stupid, bloody bastard!  What the hell were you trying to prove?”

“Trying to prove?  Nothing!  Trying to _do_?  How about save your miserable life?”  Bodie shot off the bench and turned to face his partner.  “He had a _gun_ , Doyle, a fucking gun pointed right at your head!”  He was shouting now, not giving a rat’s arse as to who might be watching or listening.  “You almost fucking died!”

“And so did you!”  Doyle was shouting right back at him, following him up and off the bench.  “You great daft pillock, so did you, when you stepped right into his line of fire!  You wouldn’t have… _shouldn’t_ have… had to move out of the way at all!”  The two of them stood practically nose to nose, motionless, eyes locked together and hot breath mingling, until at length the adrenaline began to recede and the charged atmosphere surrounding them released its lingering hold.

“But I didn’t die, did I… and neither did you.  We’re both still here.”  Bodie swayed suddenly, and felt Doyle reach out to steady him, pulling him back to the bench and sitting him down.  A warm weight settled across his shoulders; Doyle’s jacket, draped carefully to avoid the crude bandage Doyle himself had tied around his arm.  Christ, but that seemed to be ages ago, although in reality it had only been maybe an hour… they’d only been a few minutes in A&E before Doyle had up and run from the waiting room.  “Besides, it’s nothing, just a crease…”  He winced, hoping that hadn’t sounded as defensive to Doyle as it had to his own ears.

“You daft pillock,” Doyle said again, but the heat was gone.  “I know that.  But the feeling is… well, it goes both ways, you know, and I think you need to start to get that through your thick skull.”  He paused.  “Next time, just shout, yeah?  I can move plenty fast.” 

Bodie opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, stopped by Doyle’s raised hand.  They sat in silence, arms nudging together as they breathed, until a shudder he couldn’t suppress almost dislodged the jacket from his shoulders.  “Bloody hell…”

That brought his partner to his feet again, hand extended to grip his good arm and gently ease him to a standing position.  “Come on, mate,” Doyle said to him.  “Let’s get you back down to the hospital… which you never should have left in the first place.”  They started down the path towards the park gates.

“I’m sorry,” Bodie said again. 

The hand on his arm tightened briefly, and Doyle shook his head at him.

“You can show me later,” Doyle said, “just how sorry you are. And I’ll even take into consideration your sore arm…”

Bodie felt his world shift slightly, then settle back into place. “What sore arm?  As I said, it’s only a crease…”

 

**End**

 

 


End file.
